


c'mon c'mon

by frozensight



Category: Nova (Comics), The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, implied Gwen's death, mentions of past Gwen/Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozensight/pseuds/frozensight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter is forced to go to a party, and things don't go as expected. Though as it turns out for both Peter and Sam, this isn't exactly a bad thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	c'mon c'mon

**Author's Note:**

> I may be a college student, but I have no real idea of how fraternity/sorority parties work so I based it off of movies/stories from friends. This fic is very loosely based off the One Direction song by the same title because I enable my friends just as much as they enable me, especially when it comes to ships.
> 
> Besides, every pairing needs at least one college au, right?

The last place Peter Parker wants to be is some frat party on a Saturday night. He would much rather be back in his dorm room, studying for his physics test on Monday, but _no_ , he apparently has been working himself too hard the past few weeks and his best friends made the decision to hold an intervention. Peter loves Harry and MJ--really, he does--but he also wishes that they would leave him alone to his schoolwork sometimes. Yes, he does feel bad about neglecting them for the past month--wow it has been a _month_ since he has left his dorm for anything other than food, the library, or classes; Peter has never thought of it like that before--but still, he wishes they had picked a different place to hang out at because really, frat boy chic isn’t exactly Peter’s scene.

So that’s where he found himself at ten o’clock on a Saturday night, standing alone at the edge of the living room (at least he thinks it’s supposed to be the living room), and holding a beer bottle that someone had thrusted into his hands fifteen minutes ago in their own good natured, drunken stupor. Harry and MJ are on the “dance floor” having a grand old time from what Peter can see of their poorly executed dance moves and what he thinks is supposed to be flirting. He sighs as he takes a sip of his beer, and instantly regrets it as the taste he has been wanting out of his mouth is thus renewed. He sets the bottle down on the nearest flat surface before he repeats the same mistake _again_.

Turning his attention back to where Harry and MJ are now dancing with each other, he’s honestly glad they’re having a good time. Peter just wishes all three of them could be having a good time, somewhere that isn’t a frat party. Because now that he’s out and away from his books and notes and computer, Peter genuinely does want to hang out with his two best friends, but he also feels just bad enough about ignoring them (on _accident_ ) for practically a month that he doesn’t feel like he has a right to interrupt their fun. So he leans against the nearest wall and decides that he’ll give them until maybe eleven before asking if they can leave and go back to the dorms and watch a movie or something.

 

* * *

 

There is nothing that could bring Sam Alexander’s night down except for his date ditching him only thirty minutes into the first party his frat throws after he successfully pledges, which, of course, is exactly what happens.

“Oh come _on_ , Ava!! I said I’d owe you one!”

“Yeah, and you still do because I’m bored and I have homework to do, so I’m _leaving_ , Alexander.” Ava’s ponytail waves goodbye before Sam can get another word in, and then he’s just left standing in the middle of a party looking like a _loser_ who can’t get a date to his own frat’s party. Not to mention, Ava would definitely still hold him to that favor even though she _totally_ ditched him without actually fulfilling her end of the bargain. It is a typical Ava move, but that doesn’t mean Sam can’t be annoyed at her. They had made a _deal_ , damnit.

Still though, Sam guesses he is grateful that she stuck around long enough for at least a couple of his brothers to see them together. He picks up a beer from the nearest table and observes how the party is going from the corner of the room.

There seem to be a couple people monopolizing a good portion of the dance floor, having a good time dancing with anyone who will join in. Sam watches the red head for awhile until he sees her gesture towards someone off the dance floor, and he follows her gaze back to a guy who is shaking his head as he continues to lean against the wall on the outskirts of the living room. The guy smiles, and seems to be laughing at the girl’s antics. She is quickly distracted by the guy she’s on the dance floor with, but Sam continues to focus on the wallflower.

He’s familiar, which is weird to Sam because he doesn’t know that many people outside of his circle and he knows all of _their_ names, but this guy’s face is definitely one Sam has seen before and on an often enough basis for it to stick out to him. He feels like he’s just about to figure it out when one of his brothers calls out his name, and he gets wrapped up in refereeing a game of beer pong, forgetting all about the wallflower guy. 

 

* * *

 

Peter is just about to brave the dance floor again (he’d gone out before because MJ had dragged him) long enough to ask MJ and Harry if they could leave when someone crashes into him, spilling whatever had been in their cup all over Peter’s shirt and pants. 

“ _Really_?” mutters Peter as he glances around for something to try and dry himself off with. When nothing sticks out, he looks at the offender.

“Aw man, I’m sorry!” The guy sets his now mostly empty cup on the nearest table and does the same look around that Peter already did. “Uh, it’s just beer, so no harm no foul?”

“Maybe there hasn’t been any harm, but there has been some _definite_ foul.” Peter wishes he hadn’t opened his mouth the second after he speaks, but he also is beginning to feel the cold of his now wet clothes and it isn’t a feeling he particularly wants to go home with. He knew he should’ve stayed in the dorm tonight.

The guy who ran into him rolls his eyes. “Oh my god come on you whiny brat; I’ll show you to the bathroom so you can clean up or whatever.” He heads off without seeing if Peter is actually going to follow him. Peter sends a brief look towards MJ and Harry, managing to signal to them that he is going to the bathroom. MJ throws him a thumbs up, and Peter can’t help but smile as he hurriedly catches up to the idiot who spilled beer all over him.

“I’m not a brat,” is all Peter says when he finds himself behind the guy again.

The guy snorts as he pushes open the door to the bathroom slowly, like he’s afraid someone is going to be in there. With the chaos that is going on around him, Peter doesn’t blame him for being a little cautious. “Please, it’s just a little beer and you practically gave me a bitch face.”

“Okay, one, it’s not ‘just a little beer’ because my crotch is wet and it looks like I not only pissed myself but also managed to get it all over my shirt as well.” Peter pulls his damp shirt away from his stomach, where it hangs limply.

“Haha, it does look like you pissed your pants,” says the guy as he hands Peter a towel, and Peter frowns as he does a very poor job of trying to dry his clothes. It is a futile effort from the start, but it gives Peter something to do while he contemplates his accidental companion.

He watches him from the corner of his eye as he dabs his pants with the towel. Besides the fact that the guy spilled his beer all over Peter’s front, he rings a bell somewhere in the back of Peter’s mind. As Peter does his thing, the guy rests his hip against the doorframe, watching Peter, making him feel a little weird as he tries to watch him back. In his defense, he’s just trying to figure out why he looks so damn familiar; it’s definitely not because he’s trying to check him out or anything, not like the…

“You’re the cute guy in my English class!” exclaims Peter, dropping the towel to point at the guy, who then raises his eyebrows at him as it dawns on Peter that yes, he did say that out loud instead of quietly in his head like he meant to. “I-I mean…”

“Cute, huh?”

“W-Well, ya see...hahaha...ha…” Peter finds himself leaning back against the counter, trying to make himself as small as possible away from the guy, who steps a little bit closer as Peter fumbles for something-- _anything_ \--intelligent to say. “I, uh...didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“ _Clearly_ ,” begins Cute English Class Guy, a grin on his face. He’s a foot or so away from Peter at this point, and not moving any closer, like he doesn’t want to scare Peter away with any unwanted movement. “So, you think of me as the cute guy in your English class?”

Peter shrugs, not really meeting his eyes, but kind of really wanting to. “Yeah, maybe, but I don’t know; you’re not as cute up close. I mean you did spill beer on me, and that’s not very cute.” He needs to stop saying the word cute, it’s beginning to sound weird.

“Wow, _wow_ ,” Cute English Class Guy--Peter has got to think of a shorter nickname or find out his real name--pouts, hands on his hips as he stands in front of Peter, the door to the bathroom now half-closed. “I told you I didn’t do it on purpose! Not to mention I brought you here to clean up, didn’t I?”

“Oh, yes, and that has worked _so_ well.” Peter gestures to his clothes, which are still very damp and getting colder by the second. “You’re a regular gentleman, you are.”

Cute English crowds him against the sink some more, and Peter opens his mouth to say something as he notices the door being push shut the rest of the way. He doesn’t get a chance to comment on what causes it, whether it be ghosts or physics or the house being built on a slight hill, because Cute English (Alex? Peter seems to remember hearing the name Alex whenever their English professor called roll) is kissing him against the sink, the counter digging into Peter’s ass. He flails for a moment, not sure what to do with his arms, before he lets them rest on Cute English’s shoulders as he kisses back.

 

* * *

 

Sam has always been act first, think later. It’s gotten him into plenty of trouble over the years, more often than not after his little sister Kaelynn has dared him to do something, but usually everything turns out okay and is completely and totally worth it. He feels like kissing Wallflower is gonna be a lot like one of those worth it moments.

His hands are on Wallflower’s hips, pushing him back against the sink, while Wallflower’s arms are on Sam’s shoulders. It takes a couple seconds for Wallflower to kiss back, and in those seconds Sam almost pulls away because he thinks he has read the situation wrong. But then they’re kissing and Sam pushes as much as he’s pulled, and it’s a _really good kiss_.

When they break apart, Sam meets Wallflower’s eyes, something Wallflower has been avoiding, and he smirks as he says, “I really don’t think you’re here for a perfect gentleman.”

“You don’t know what I’m here for.”

Sam cocks his head, taking in the brown eyes of Wallflower that seem to be smiling at him despite the hilariously adorable frown on his freshly kissed lips. “Maybe I didn’t, but I’m pretty sure I know now.”

Wallflower rolls his eyes, mouth twitching into a small smile as he says, “Shut up and kiss me again. Unless a prerequisite for that is spilling beer on me, which, in that case, skip to the kissing part.”

Never one to back down from a challenge, Sam leans forward again and kisses him, pressing even more of his body against Wallflower, suddenly feeling like he has to have the contact. Wallflower mumbles something into his mouth, and Sam takes that as a hint to change their positions up a bit. So he grabs Wallflower’s hips more firmly and lifts him onto the counter. The shift causes Wallflower to become more tentacle-y as his legs join his arms in wrapping around Sam and pulling him closer.

Sam can’t say he exactly minds, but that doesn’t stop him from breaking away from Wallflower’s mouth to comment, “Were you an octopus in a past life, or has it just really been that long?”

Wallflower glares at him, his hands gripping his shoulders a little tightly, making Sam aware that Wallflower’s arms were no longer wrapped around his neck. “You have a problem with the way I kiss?”

“No, no definitely not.” Sam brings himself closer, grinning as Wallflower’s breath hitches a bit as their crotches touch. “I was just asking a question.”

Seconds tick by, and Sam begins to think he has fucked it all up and Wallflower is going to hit him and storm out, but he doesn’t. He sighs, of all things, and just sort of smiles sadly up at Sam, throwing him way off as he shrugs. His hands release Sam’s shoulders and arms wrap around his neck again as Wallflower this time leans in to initiate the kiss. “It has been awhile, yes, but I think my aunt told me once that I come from a long line of sea creatures.”

Before Sam can ask about the look in his eyes, he finds himself dragged into another kiss and he quickly forgets about the brief flash of pain that had settled over Wallflower. Because now Wallflower is a more than active participant, in fact, he’s running the risk of pulling himself off the sink counter because he keeps trying to move closer to Sam while tugging Sam to him at the same time. Their crotches keep rubbing against each other and the friction is about to drive Sam mad because it’s also kind of been awhile for him--he just hasn’t found time, okay?--and his skin is beginning to feel like it’s too hot for clothes and needs the desperate touch of Wallflower’s hands all over him.

He pulls away, their lips smacking with a pop. Wallflower raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t do anything but huff as one of his hands starts playing with the hair at the base of Sam’s neck, waiting for Sam to explain. Sam opens his mouth, fully prepared and eager to suggest maybe they lose some layers, but he gets interrupted by someone knocking on the door.

“Hey, Peter? MJ and I are ready to head out whenever you’re done in there, okay?” Wallflower freezes before Sam, and now it’s Sam’s turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

“O-Okay, I’ll meet you outside in a minute, Harry!” There is a thump, like the person on the other side of the door--Harry?--patted the door in acknowledgment. Wallflower--or rather Peter, Sam supposes--lets out a slow breath and leans his head back against the wall just next to the mirror. He levels Sam with a look that has Sam shaking his head before Peter even begins to talk, “I gotta go.”

“ _No_ ,” is all Sam says. He locks eyes with Peter, and lets his hands wander a bit over his legs and chest, to kinetically emphasize why leaving is a bad idea. “You are _not_ ditchin’ me like this, _Peter_.”

Sam could tell it confused Peter for a moment to hear Sam call him by his name, but he brushes it off quickly. He looks reluctant as he murmurs, “But he’s my ride…” like he wants to be convinced to stay, and Sam is more than happy to try.

“ _I_ could be your ride.” He forces himself to sound completely serious as he says it, leaning in close to Peter’s face so that Sam’s words ghost over his skin.

Peter gives off the appearance of being appalled, but Sam can tell from the gleam in his eyes that he wants to laugh. “Not with that line, you’re not.”

“Aw, come on, Peter; you know you wanna stay here with me. I’m sure I could find you some clothes to wear and we’d get you out of those beer soaked ones…” Sam knows he’s starting to win when Peter groans and moves off the wall and back towards Sam. Score one for heat of the moment, zippo for the friends who gave him a ride there.

Their lips barely touch again, Sam’s hand making a break for under Peter’s shirt, when there’s a louder, more obnoxious knock on the door followed by a woman yelling, “Let’s go, Parker! I thought you couldn’t _wait_ to leave this party, so I really don’t understand why you’re making Harry and I wait on you in the bathroom. It’s not like you have someone in there with you or anything, that’s not exactly your style.”

“Oh my god, MJ, just give me a _second_!” Even Sam can hear her disgruntled huff from inside the bathroom, but he ignores it in favor of the kiss Peter gives him. He pushes himself off the counter and backs Sam against the wall opposite the mirror. He breaks off, their foreheads touching as Peter’s hand glides over Sam’s crotch, teasing and nothing more than incredibly frustrating. He whispers, “I really have to go.”

“But _why_?” counters Sam, his voice just as soft. “I have a car; I can take you back to campus whenever you want _and_ you can stay here with me.”

“She’ll ask questions and she’s part of the school newspaper and just--” Peter interrupts himself to kiss Sam again, “I have to go.”

“I’ll let you go if you say my name.” Sam wraps his arms around Peter this time, pulling them flush together again.

Peter rolls his eyes, but he’s blushing. “How on Earth would I know your name?”

“We have class together, don’t we? Roll’s been called multiple times. What’s my name, _Parker_?”

With one glance at the door, like Peter is telepathically telling his friend to wait a little bit longer, he meets Sam’s eyes. His face contorts into what Sam guesses is his ‘thinking face’ (it’s annoyingly cute), and he says, “A...lex…?”

Sam makes the buzzer noise, still talking under his breath. “Nope, but not terribly far off.”

Peter groans, his head falling to Sam’s shoulder. His friend knocks loudly again, and he shouts back, “Damnit, MJ, I’m _coming_!”

“Is that what’s taking so long?”

“ _Mary Jane_!”

Sam can’t help himself, he bursts out laughing because in a way that is what is taking so long, or it would be if people didn’t  keep interrupting them and preventing them from even getting that far. He doesn’t realize his mistake until Peter is punching him in the shoulder and whisper yelling at him to shut up.

“That’s not your laugh, Peter, what’s going--oh my god there is someone in there with you!” Peter’s face burns a bright red at being caught, and Sam laughs harder. “Peter, you _dog_! Harry, come here! Pete’s having his first hook-up!”

Mouth open, ready to say something back to them, Sam instead finds himself being kissed hard. It’s brief, but good enough that it leaves Sam stunned for a bit and he doesn’t even realize Peter is disentangling himself from Sam’s arms until it’s too late. Peter’s at the door, with a half smile. “I gotta do damage control; I’ll see you in class on Monday, right?”

Sam nods, not trusting himself to speak and not say something stupid.

“Awesome; see you later, Alex!”

He opens the door and runs out, grabbing his two friends that are standing outside the bathroom, looking curious. They both give Sam a look over as best they can while being dragged away, and Sam barely has time to register what Peter said and yell back, “My name isn’t Alex, you idiot!” before they’re out of sight.

That’s how Sam finds himself alone in a bathroom on a Saturday night with a semi in his pants, a name in his head, but no number in his phone.

 

* * *

 

By the time Monday comes around, Peter has spent more time wondering why the hell he didn’t give Alex--yeah yeah, it’s not his name but it’s all he has--his number before running off to be embarrassed by his two best friends than he does study for his physics test. Harry and MJ rib him about his ‘mysterious hook up’ all the way back to the dorms, with Peter hardly saying anything except to get them to promise to help him find out who Alex is.

Sunday is passed with Peter in a coffee shop alongside Harry, MJ, and a laptop, his physics book sitting in his backpack, neglected. They scour Facebook, Twitter--hell, even _MySpace_ \--but nowhere can they find a guy named Alex or with any derivative in his name that attends the school and looks like the guy from the party. MJ theorizes that maybe he is from a different college and was just there for the party, but Peter shakes his head because he _knows_ that he’s the same guy in his American Literature English class. The recognition had definitely been mutual.

Harry proposes that he uses his father’s resources to do some serious high-tech searching, but Peter sighs and shakes his head. “I’ll see him in class tomorrow, so there’s no point. I just wish I knew his name _now_.”

“Well, you know it’s _not_ Alex.” Peter glares at MJ, but she smirks as she drinks more of her mocha. Harry chuckles from his seat next to her, and Peter feels wholly betrayed.

Monday morning starts off with Peter remembering Saturday night for the billionth time, and then he promptly remembers his physics test and how he hasn’t properly studied. It takes him a few minutes to calm down from panicking, and he hates that a big part of what helps him relax is the thought of seeing Alex that afternoon.

He manages to study some before class, and the test goes as well as Peter could’ve expected with the amount of time he spent over his textbook that weekend. At lunch, Harry rolls his eyes as Peter complains, and with only a slightly bitter tone says, “I don’t know why you’re so upset, Pete; you’ll probably get like a freaking B on the damn thing.”

“Harry--”

Harry sighs, setting down his fork, but not meeting Peter’s eyes. “I know, Peter, and I’m sorry. My dad’s just been riding my ass about my midterm grades lately. I hope you get an A, man.”

Peter smiles at him, mumbling thanks, but shuts his mouth after that and focuses on eating.

When they split up for their afternoon classes, Harry actually pats Peter on the back outside of the Humanities building. “Good luck, Pete. I’m glad you’ve found someone who makes you happy.”

That makes Peter pause, his feet frozen to the ground. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean, it’s nice to see you over _her_ ya know? Even if it’s just some guy you met at a party.” Harry’s voice is soft, careful, and Peter flashes back to years ago when that tone had been all he heard for months. It hurts to think about it like that, that he’s moving on, but deep down...Peter thinks it’s what she would’ve wanted. Harry grins awkwardly, clearly feeling bad for making the moment so serious. “Not to mention it’s a guy in the first place; gotta say, Pete, I never saw that coming.”

Peter smiles at him, appreciating the effort Harry put into easing the situation. “What can I say, Harry? I really like to change things up.”

Harry laughs, grabbing Peter’s shoulder and shaking him gently in a reaffirming touch. “You sure do, Peter. I’ll see you later.”

“See ya.”

It takes a bit longer for Peter to actually enter the building because he’s discovering that the closer he got to class starting, the more terrified he becomes that Alex won’t want anything to do with him now that they’re in everyday life. Like the party had been a moment in space and time where he and Alex had potential, and now that the moment is over, they can never get it back.

Eventually he makes himself go up to the classroom, his palms sweaty in a way he hasn’t experienced since high school. He sits in his normal seat and glances around the room, not sure if he’s relieved or even more anxious when he sees that Alex isn’t there yet. In an effort to distract himself, Peter pulls out his English textbook and tries to go over what they were to read for today, but finds himself rereading the same few words over and over again.

The next time he looks up, the professor is there and class is starting. Peter’s eyes land on the far side of the room, and his heart jumps a little when he sees Alex over there, staring right back at him. Alex winks at him, and Peter averts his gaze immediately.

When class dismisses, Peter thinks they’re gonna meet up at the door, maybe it would be awkward, but their first interactions involved beer and making out in a bathroom so Peter figured it couldn’t get much worse. As he gets up from his seat though, he realizes Alex isn’t in the room anymore, and the hope that has been gradually building in him for the past hour fizzles out in a second. Feeling more than a little rejected, Peter walks out of the classroom, deciding he’d just go back to his dorm and see if his physics professor has posted his grade yet. He barely makes it out of the door when someone grabs his wrist from behind. Startled, Peter whips around and finds himself face to face with Alex.

“You really thinking about leaving without talking to me, Parker? I’m insulted; I thought we had something special.” He is grinning, and Peter reflects it without even meaning to.

“I thought you didn’t wanna actually see me…”

Alex gives Peter an incredibly skeptical look, his hand firm around Peter’s wrist, but not tight. “You’re an idiot, ya know that, Parker? If I didn’t want to see you, I wouldn’t have fucking winked at you in class.”

“Your eye could’ve been conveniently twitched while you were staring at me.”

That makes him snort before he holds up Peter’s wrist between them, his hand slipping up until they are holding hands. “Well, while the beer spilling had been an accident, this isn’t, Parker, so don’t overthink it.”

Peter grins, the knots in his stomach easing as he comprehends the sensation of Alex’s hand holding his. “I’ll try not to.”

“So, _Peter_ ,” begins Alex as they walk towards the stairs, joined hands swinging slightly, “you wanna pick up where we left off?”

“I don’t know, that depends, do I get to know your name?”

“I _suppose_ you’ve earned that--I’m Sam Alexander.”

“So I _wasn’t_ that far off!”

“Yes, you were because ‘Alex’ is part of my _last name_ , Parker.”

“Whatever, you only knew my name because it was shouted at us through the bathroom door.”

“Parker, do you wanna finish what we started or continue this pointless conversation?”

Peter smirks at him as they leave the building, the decision of where to go next causing them to halt in the middle of the sidewalk. “Why don’t we continue this pointless conversation on our way back to my dorm?”

Sam--god is it nice to know what his name actually is--smirks back, fingers squeezing Peter’s briefly. “I like the way you think, Parker.”

“You know what the best part is?” Sam raises an eyebrow at him as they start walking again, this time with their destination set towards the dorms. Peter gives him his biggest, most smug grin. “You don’t have to get beer spilled on you to see my bathroom.”

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you, Peter?”

“Probably not, Sam. Probably not.”

“Ugh, shut up and lead the way to your room, idiot. Classes are over for today, and we have unfinished business.”


End file.
